


Veneers

by recallthelove



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff and Angst, Post Game, biros and pancakes, snarky broads and their dysfunctional relationships, tiniest bit of Dave/Terezi there but nothing big
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:51:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recallthelove/pseuds/recallthelove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beneath that careful façade of class and snark, Rose and Kanaya are just as dysfunctional as the next lesbian xenocouple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which The Pen Gets An Eyeful

**Author's Note:**

> Note: If you have any comments on me using single quotation marks, please go to http://www.eng-lang.co.uk/ogs.htm and see the 'British practice' part.

 

 

 

**= > Kanaya: Be utterly and completely confused at the antics of your matesprit.**

 You are Kanaya Maryam, and you are quite sure you’ve had enough of this... Whatever it is Rose is doing.

Admittedly, it isn’t anything new; after all, your relationship was pretty much forged on a foundation of snarky horseshit, sarcasm and constantly trying to one-up the other person/troll. Knowing Rose as you do now, it doesn’t bother you as much. In fact, you rather enjoy it, if you're totally honest with yourself.

However, although you don’t know much about the etiquette for human reproductive rituals -  beyond what you’ve managed to discern from Rose’s ironically sexual wizard stories and what research you’ve managed to do online of course -you’re fairly certain she shouldn’t be delivering sarcastic one-liners to you when you’re knuckle deep inside her.

It’s been this way for a long time. The first time you were about to be intimate together, an hour slotted in between research, Rose took one look at you naked and commented, ‘Well, I did always habour a certain fascination for this particular brand of hentai’. As was probably Rose’s aim, it was a total ‘mood-killer’, to use Dave’s terminology: you, in your ever-present curiosity, just had to ask what hentai was. And of course she had to show you.

‘I shall have to show you many different genres, insofar as pornography has genres. In the interests of being thorough, of course,’ she had called back to you over her shoulder, pulling up the browser on your husktop.

 She showed you all the genres. All of them.

Some weren’t too bad, but some you really didn’t like  Oh God What Is That Get It Off The Screen Rose Turn It Off TURN IT OFF!  She had simply watched your horror with quiet amusement while picking holes into her dark nailpolish, never saying a word.

For a while after that, you weren’t sure you would ever be turned on again. Humans were weird.

It only got worse from there. You entered a tiring game of passive aggressive attacks and parries, of being shooed and waved away; as is most of your life with Rose sometimes, to be perfectly honest, but as Rose has grown older her barbs became warmer, often accompanied with a twinkling and fond eye. You give as good as you get. But you know well that actions speak louder than words, and so never allow your kisses to be tainted with scathing remarks, or to follow up the slow brush of your hand against her stomach and hip with a comment that derails the mood. Not so for Rose. 

That said, it’s not always like this. Sometimes she stays quiet and kisses you roughly, desperately; in these situations you often just end up on your back with her insistent hand between your legs. When she needs to, she’ll find her release independently using your thigh, and while admittedly you like the view from that angle, you rarely get to touch her back. That’s when you can actually  _get_  her in the mood – for the most part she seems reluctant, stoic and quiet with the odd off-putting quip designed to distract you from the task at hand. 

At your wit’s end, you wondered if perhaps this was normal for solely human relationships. Obviously you have no prior knowledge of them outside your one with Rose and stolen romance novels, which are always prone to exaggeration. Maybe Rose’s lack of enthusiasm is normal – no, maybe lack of enthusiasm is the wrong turn of phrase. She’s certainly enthusiastic for  _your_ body when she wants to be, if a little frantic and too set on finishing quickly, but less so for her own. It doesn’t make any sense.

 You even tried asking Dave about it once. You thought he was likely to be the best source of knowledge on Rose.

 Naturally, he completely shut down that conversation as soon as he caught on to what you were rambling about.

 \-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began pestering [TG]at 16:13 –-

GA: Hello Dave

GA: Im Sorry To Bother You But I Am In Need Of Your Assistance 

TG: my assistance 

TG: huh feel like ive been here before 

TG: if its anything to do with baking soda and leather pants count me out okay 

TG: just cant deal with that kind of trauma again 

GA: What 

GA: What Do Baking Soda And Leather Pants Have To Do With Anything 

TG: dont ask okay 

TG: or at least if youre gonna ask then ask fucking john 

GA: … 

GA: Okay That Confusing And Unnecessary Digression Aside This Is Not About White Powder Used To Increase The Volume Of Baked Goods Through Carbon Dioxide Or Trousers Made From Animal Hides 

TG: shame 

GA: Its About Rose 

TG: oh rose 

TG: yeah i am the motherfucking expert on rose 

TG: know everything about her 

TG: got a phd in roseology 

TG: could write a biography 

TG: make a documentary 

TG: direct a feature film using puppets instead of actors 

TG: you fucking name it maryam just say the word and all my years of knowledge and studying and watching from the bushes with a hidden camera is yours  

GA: Is This More Of Your Sarcasm 

GA: Because I Must Admit I Am Used To Roses Style Mostly Consisting Of Overdramatic Wordplay But Not So Much Yours Where You State The Opposite Of What You Mean Often In A Mildly Disturbing Way And Then Continue It In An Extended Analogy For Far Too Long 

TG: uh 

TG: i guess? 

TG: … whatever just hit me with your question already 

GA: Okay Well 

GA: Has Rose Ever Seemed 

GA: Reluctant To Be The Recipient Of Physical Contact 

TG: dunno lalonde and i were never ones for all that cuddly crap 

TG: probably something to do with making friends on the web and never having fulfilling relationships with people offline and emotional distance or something else i don’t care about 

GA: Um I Suppose So 

GA: Its Just She Is Seemingly Very Anxious When I Attempt To Touch Her 

TG: anxious 

TG: like nervous 

TG: or anxious like sitting in the corner rocking back and forth and babbling when you go near her 

GA: The Former Would Be More Accurate Although It Manifests In Different Forms 

GA: Most Often She Will Abscond From Situations Of A More Intimate Nature 

GA: Before They Can Actually Be Allowed To Become Intimate 

TG: woah woah woah wait 

TG: fuck im so stupid i didn’t even get what you were talking about until you said that 

TG: no 

TG: no fucking way 

TG: we’re not having this conversation 

GA: What Why 

TG: i don’t want to know about roses sex life ok 

GA: Ah 

GA: I Believe I Understand 

GA: Human Siblings Are Uncomfortable Talking About Each Other Being In Situations Deemed Sexual Because Of Your Taboo About Incest Are They Not 

GA: I Apologise For Not Remembering As Rose Has Told Me Before Quite Vehemently That She Was Very Opposed To Talking About You In Such A Way In Conversation 

TG: wait when did she say that 

GA: When You Were As She Put It 

GA: Banging Terezi Into The Headboard In Our House 

GA: Which Was A Little Rude I Must Say Could You Keep It Down Next Time The Two Of You Stay Over We Were Trying To Sleep 

TG: oh yeah 

TG: sorry my bad 

TG: reluctantly moving back to the original topic though i am so not giving you advice on how to get my sister into bed 

GA: I Can Understand That I Suppose 

TG: but 

TG: i will say that rose is a freaking headcase in general ok 

TG: we all are 

TG: but for her when it comes to you in particular she is just five feet of pure messed up and godawful at dealing with her feelings in a sensible way 

TG: or did you forget her getting totally hammered and falling down the stairs just because she was nervous about having a date with you 

GA: I Do Remember And Would Prefer Not To 

GA: Also I Believe Her To Be Slightly Taller Than Five Foot 

TG: yeah by like an inch 

TG: anyway not the point 

TG: basically rose is emotionally constipated 

TG: so you gotta find a way to crack through that frosty ass shell she has 

TG: i mean damn you got her to be in a steady relationship and live with you im sure you can get her naked somehow 

TG: though what do you guys even do is it like normal lesbians or do you sit there snarking until someone orgasms 

GA: Disrobing Rose Is Not Exactly The Issue Here And Besides I Thought You Did Not Want To Talk About It 

TG: ugh 

TG: look just go fucking talk to her or jump her and smack her in the face with your ginormous tentacle bulge-dong or something 

TG: she probably likes that

 \--turntechGodhead [TG]ceased pestering grimAuxiliatrix[GA]\--

 

The whole conversation made you even more frustrated and confused, as conversations with Dave are often known to – although to be fair to him, he did shed some light by reminding you of how unusual Rose's behaviour can become when she's anxious. Seeking further information, you tried similar tactics with Jade and John to little response: ‘uh i’m not sure this is really my topic of expertise kanaya DX you should ask rose about it all really!!!’ and John was, well, a little blindsided by the confirmation that the two of you are having sex to be of any help. Or not, as the case may be. In general, the consensus is ‘Ask Rose’ or Dave’s case, ‘Jump Rose, tentacles optional’.

You try both, at various points. Neither gets you very far. The former doesn’t work because you edge around the topic too much, giving Rose the perfect opportunity to pretend she has no idea what you mean. The second is slightly more successful (you try many times), but only for a few minutes before she somehow manages to slither out of your grip and escape the room with a perfectly formed excuse and only the barest hint of a blush on her cheeks.

You’re totally lost.

You’re totally sexually frustrated.

And you’re totally starting to wonder if it’s all your fault somehow, that she’s punishing you for something, that she’s angry, or – worst of all – she no longer has flushed feelings for you and instead aspires for a paler relationship, but does not know how to tell you. It would certainly make sense.

The very thought makes you feel ill and shaky, but you never ask her outright for fear the answer might be yes.

 

**

It isn’t until maybe a month later that you think you’ve made a break-through.

It’s a familiar scene: Rose sits by your legs in the living room, her back against the couch as she reads, a blue biro clenched and wiggling merrily between her teeth. Every so often she’ll take the pen out of her mouth and underline a line here and there, before replacing it with unnecessary relish. You hate when she puts pens in her mouth, and she knows it, so she does it all the more.

Meanwhile a sketchpad rests on your lap, on which you’re supposed to be making designs, but are instead doodling swirly, intricate loops and meowbeasts with rainbow drinker teeth. Considering the precariousness of your financial situation – barely hanging on using the meagre funds left to Rose by her lusus – you should really be trying to be more productive in trying to finish things and get your name out there, but whatever.

Absent-mindedly, your hand is stroking her hair as you scribble, lifting the strands up and letting gravity sift the tendrils back down through your fingers. It’s not something she often lets you do, for one reason or another, but today she seems more lenient. You suspect it’s because she seems oddly sleepy today. Every so often you feel her weight fall heavily against your leg, then Rose will suddenly jerk upright as though realising she’s falling asleep. This process repeats several times as you both sit there, and she doesn’t respond much to you beyond the odd tilt or slight movement of her head to coax your caresses in a certain direction. For the most part she carries on reading her book, or at least, trying to.

It’s a peaceful moment. In the midst of all your anxiety, you’d forgotten how nice it was to simply sit with her. As such, you're paying more attention to her than you usually would, which is probably why you notice. That is, as your hand makes another pass down the back of her head, your fingers graze the nape of her neck, and suddenly, you feel her shiver. Just a little, but still noticeable.

Your caressing falters while you gaze at her, bemused. Rose acts as though nothing happened, turning a page of her book. Even so, you notice that the line of her shoulders has become a tad more hunched.

‘Are you alright, Rose?’ you ask cautiously.

‘Yes, I’m fine. It’s just a little cold in here.’

It’s not cold at all - it’s the middle of the summer. Even Rose is wearing blessedly little clothing today; a green skirt and a deep red button-up shirt that clash together in a way that is most offensive to your eyes. She stole the shirt from you (a common habit) and seems to have no intention of giving back. Admittedly you don’t mind too much. It brings out her eyes nicely, and she also has a particularly lovely habit of walking around wearing only that particular shirt and nothing else on days when she’s too lazy to get dressed.

You peer at her back for a while, but it only looks back stonily and gives you no answers. Mentally shrugging, you resume stroking her hair, watching her carefully. As your nails scratch along the back of her neck, the tiniest tremor goes through her body and she inhales a little too sharply to be natural breathing. This time, you’re certain you didn’t imagine her reaction.

‘Rose?’

She doesn’t answer. Curious, you run the line of your fingernail along the edge of her hairline. This time, Rose’s shoulders squirm slightly. She’s recently cut her hair shorter than normal and her neck is more on display than you're used to. You suppose that’s why you’ve never noticed quite how sensitive this particular area is. Of course you decide to take full advantage of it there and then, drawing mini circles and shapes along the side of her neck to just below her ear, then back down to underneath the collar of her shirt.

‘Kanaya, stop that,’ Rose says. Her voice is like sandpaper; she coughs into her fist to clear it.

‘Stop what?’

‘Don’t play the fool. You know exactly what I’m talking about,’ she responds, from between gritted teeth. ‘So please stop it.’

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh. ‘I’m quite sure I don’t, Rose.’

She rolls so her head is fully on your lap, trapping your hand between her head and your legs. You innocently flex your fingers at the base of her skull, causing Rose to frown up at you severely. It’s a stern look, but it’s difficult to take her seriously with the small blush highlighting her pale cheeks.

'Kanaya,’ she says in a warning tone.

'Rose,’ you reply, gleefully mocking her tone.

You’re almost giddy with your new-found knowledge, of finally finding something to rile up Rose with. Of course, by now you know all the  _obvious_  places but until now there’s not been anything like this, where you might just casually run your fingers down her neck when she’s not expecting it. Perhaps when meeting for dinner with your friends: Rose might be sitting next to you. You might just slide your arm around her shoulders, skim your nails over her shoulders and into the soft, downy tendrils of hair at the base of her neck, and feel her shiver and turn a warning glare on you like now…

After a moment, Rose huffs and returns to her reading. She has shifted away from you slightly and pressed her back more closely to the couch, but the blush lingers on her cheeks. Her grip is tight on her pen, no longer in her mouth.

Slowly, you descend from the couch so you’re sitting next to Rose. She determinedly ignores you, but you notice that she doesn’t try to move away anymore either.

You just watch her, for a while, letting your eyes linger on every inch of her body as obviously as you can, hoping to increase the flush in her cheeks. She licks her finger and turns the page. A page does not need to be turned so dramatically, you think.

When you make a sudden movement towards her, she flinches. You grin triumphantly. Her eyes close briefly, and the crease in her brow increases, evidently annoyed with herself for reacting to you. But then her eyes re-open and she returns to her reading with extra vigour which you know to be feigned. Hooking your finger in the collar of the shirt, you tug it to the side and examine her skin. You love her long, graceful neck, littered with scars from the pointed tips of your own teeth. You try to aim for the same spot when you feed, although obviously you miss sometimes.

Glancing up reveals that Rose is still studiously ignoring you.

Slowly , you lean in and trace your lips down her skin. You feel more than hear her breath catch, as one hand is pressed to her thigh for balance and it jerks beneath your fingers when your lips touch the line where her jaw meets her neck, practically the only place you can reach in the tight confines of the collar. As you retreat she breathes out shakily, but then blinks a few times, straightens up. She goes back to her book, knuckles white on its edges. She dropped her pen somewhere during the whole thing. You've no idea where it went.

You like this game. As ever, she is determined not to lose, while you’re determined to make her lose.

You gaze at her, wondering what to do now to tip the game in your direction; then your eyes fall on her ever present headband. It’s orange today, just to spite you.

Perfect.

Before she can protest, as she certainly would given the chance, you slide her headband out and toss it aside, returning your hands to her hair so you can run your fingers through it and fluff out the strands through the gaps.

Rose seems to be losing the battle of wills, despite her desperate attempts to ignore you. In fact, although you’re trying to turn her head towards you with one hand on the cheek not facing you, her eyes are still fixed, steadfast, on the page. Still, you know she feels naked without that headband. She might be wearing nothing from the neck down and be straddling your waist with her hands wrapped around your bulge, but if the headband isn’t there, only  _then_  might she become bashful. You think it may be because her hair becomes extra puffy and sticks out in slightly odd angles without it. To you it’s just adorable though, and something you love being the only one to witness when she wakes up sleepy and grumpy and rumpled in the morning.

You pause, scratching your nails at the curve of her scalp for a moment, then sweep around to the back of her neck, feeling the muscles there tense. She presses back against you so your hand is trapped, but you push until she’s forced to relent against your superior strength, bending her head forward in reluctant submission. “Submission”: not a word you’d ever use to describe Rose, until now.

You squeeze your face in between her neck and the couch; not the most dignified of positions, you feel, even as she leans forward a little more to accommodate. She stays like that, rigid and unmoving, her shoulders a straight line jutting from her body. That is, until you slide your tongue over the protuding bone that forms the top of her spine, and she _moans,_ just quietly, under her breath, a low, needy sound.

The sound melts your insides, the warmth in your belly turning molten. You do it again, this time scraping the flats of your teeth over her skin, careful not to use your fangs and risk injuring her.

At this she turns suddenly, nearly hitting you in the mouth with her shoulder and seizing your jaw between her fingers.

‘That’s it,’ she snarls, throwing her book down to the floor.

And then she’s throwing you down too, and oh, there’s a blissful few minutes where there is no sarcasm. There are no snarky remarks. There is no confusing insincerity of any kind, just her lips hard on yours and her tongue in your mouth and her thighs pressing into either side of your hips and your wrists pinned to your sides.

Rose’s weight settles comfortably on your crotch, until she grinds down  with purpose and it escalates wildly and rapidly out of “comfortable” into “forcibly tearing the breath from your chest and making you squeak embarassingly loud”. Rose, still clutching your wrists hard enough that her nails dig into your skin, presses warm lips to your neck, kissing up to your ear.

There, she coolly congratulates you being able to find an erogenous zone particular to her.

But ‘Such moves are cheap, my dear Kanaya,’ she growls as the blunt tips of her teeth scrape over the point in your neck where the blood pulses the hardest, the place that she knows will make you moan the loudest.

She lingers there for a moment or two, tongue making swirls on your hot skin.

Then, she stands up and exits the room, leaving you lying on the floor, half-unsheathed, her biro digging into your back and wondering what the fuck just happened.


	2. In Which Pancakes Are Better Than Talking About Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic changes tone so many times. I apologise.

  
  


After that little incident, things don’t return to usual quickly. Rose avoids you for a while, claiming to be busy writing and you don’t get a chance to touch her again for a few days, let alone her neck, and nor do you get a chance to be rightfully furious at her for leaving you in such a state. It took you at least ten minutes to calm down, during which time Rose had locked herself in the spare room she’d taken over as her study, creating a desk from a coffee table she’d dragged in there and a beanbag. She hadn’t emerged since except to collapse next to you at four in the morning when you were asleep, then rise early in the morning before you got up to return to the study.

Concern eventually won out over anger and you left food outside the door.

She knew you would.

A day or two later, she finally emerges from the study. At the time you’re in the kitchen, washing dishes, wondering whether to start cooking her breakfast and bring it upstairs in order to lure her out with the smell, and then throw a bag over her to forcibly drag her out of the study. Naturally, you then realise how utterly ludicrous it is to be even considering doing that to your matesprit, and have to fight off a groan of exasperation at the situation you’ve found yourself in. Exasperation is the emotion you've chosen, because if you think about it too hard you might cry.

All you really want to know is exactly why this keeps happening. Trying to think of when it started doesn’t help – as far as you can remember, it’s always been this way, since you became first matesprits on the meteor. Back then you always seemed to meet after a particularly stressful day, when research wasn’t quite going as it should or Karkat and Dave were arguing and you were both tired and frustrated. Even with the dream bubbles to ease things a little, three years is a long time for a teenage girl to spend in the company of the same people, day in, day out. Rose never said a bad word about her situation but she didn’t have to. She expressed it in her behaviour towards you.

There would be no warning at all. Rose would simply burst into your room at a random time of the day – the concepts of day and night sort of lost meaning on the meteor - letting the door slam into the wall for maximum dramatic effect before locking it behind her and turning to you. Nearly always, there would be an inexplicable crease in her brow, her face worn and tired; then she would grip you by the horns and crush your lips together, fingers flying over buttons and clasps and undressing both of you in record time. What she lacked in finesse, she made up for with sheer speed. It was always rough, and always too fast for your liking.

Even so - and you feel awful for even thinking it considering how obviously distressed Rose was - those were some of your favourite moments with her because for once, you knew what Rose was feeling, even if you didn’t know exactly why. Plus, you were young and hormonal, and Rose was beautiful. Who could blame you, really? You could see the lust and anxiety and upset in her eyes, feel her desperation in her kisses, feel her arousal on your soaked fingertips until she grabbed your hands out from between her legs, pinned your arms above your head, palming your bulge. It was the same every time.

With a sick jolt, it truly hits you  exactly how long this whole thing has been going on for. Protected by the general turmoil of your memories of the game, when you recalled those memories you somehow managed to completely forget that Rose would always have to take control of the situation, and always tried to direct your attention elsewhere when you tried to touch her. Not that she always succeeded, of course, because you’re just as determined, but often she would tell you ‘It’s fine, I’ve already finished.’ You naively believed her. Partly because your knowledge of human anatomy wasn’t quite as up to scratch at the time, and also because she always seemed to time it so there was barely enough time to get through one round, let alone two, before both of your attentions were needed elsewhere.  

And now, you think, your thoughts unravelling rapidly in a panic, maybe you didn’t try hard enough; maybe, now, Rose thinks you don’t want to touch her. Maybe that’s why she’s acting this way. Maybe the whole thing was secretly a test of your desire for her, which you failed. Maybe she’s angry at you  for your adolescent immaturity, and trying to subtly clue you in to what’s wrong using her own passive-aggressive style of revenge, as perfected in interaction with her mother/lusus. It certainly seems like something she would do.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, you chant to yourself, face in your hands as the realisation sets in. You are the worst matesprit. It is you.

A clatter from the doorway interrupts your self-loathing, making you jerk your head up. Rose shuffles into the kitchen with bare feet and rumpled clothes, one hand trying to smooth out tangles in her hair (you still have her headband, and confiscated the others until she came out). She freezes when she sees you, halting in the doorway, and you see a flash of guilt cross her face. Or perhaps she is simply hungry. One never quite knows with Rose.

Either way, she stares at you, and you stare back with one fang worrying your bottom lip, until you let out a sigh and turn to the sink again.

You hold your breath as her footsteps sound on the tiled floors, slowly coming closer. For a moment your skin prickles in anticipation; then, suddenly the press of her front against your back as she wraps her arms around your waist. A cold cheek rubs between your shoulder-blades and she inhales deeply, squeezing.

‘Hello,’ you say, a tad awkwardly, gripping the edge of the counter.

‘Hi.’

There’s a silence. She sniffs into it, her hold on you tightening.

‘What would you like for breakfast?’ you say eventually. She lets out a long, drawn out breath that warms your skin through your shirt.

‘Oh, Kanaya,’ she says quietly.

‘Oh, Rose…’ you reply, imitating her tone. It’s a thing you do.

You like to imagine you feel her smiling. One of her hands detaches to grasp your fingers as you make to reach up for a cupboard, pulling them both down to rest against your chest and entwine your fingers together. As always, you marvel at the difference in size, of which Rose has always been self-conscious. She once told you that considering the nature of your relationship, larger hands or at least longer fingers would be beneficial. You told her you’ve never had any complaints.

She shifts and mumbles words into your back. It’s an oddly pleasant sensation, feeling her lips move over you through your clothes, but you have no idea what she just said. ‘Do you think you might repeat that?’

Rose sighs deeply, thumb stroking along your collarbone. ‘I said that I am not sure how you put up with me, Kanaya,’ she whispers to your spine, slightly louder. ‘Your patience is saint-like.’

It’s the first time she’s ever made direct reference to her behaviour. If that is indeed what she is doing. ‘… Perhaps,’ you reply, unsure what to say.

Her voice drops even lower, nearing inaudible, but your hearing is fairly sensitive. ‘It’s appreciated. I hope you know that.’

You brush your lips over her knuckles. In response, she stands on tip-toes and kisses you on the cheek. You know this to be her version of an apology. To your surprise, she doesn’t pull away when she’s done but hides her face back in the material of your shirt, arms slipping down your body to wrap around your hips from behind.

If you didn’t know Rose any better, you’d say she was feeling… needy. However, you do know Rose a little better than that, so you believe the correct terminology to be “Somewhat Despondent And Maybe Even Feeling A Little Guilty And Therefore In Need Of Rare Physical Assurance From Her Matesprit Also Known As Cuddles After Which She Will Pretend They Did Not Happen”. There’s a fine line between the two things. Not that you would ever dream of describing Rose as such out loud.

You turn around, arms coming up under the armpits and hands curved over her shoulders. Rose’s head bows, resting her forehead on your clavicle, the highest point it reaches. This kind of consoling petting is normally reserved for paler relationships among trolls, whereas you know humans to use it with both their concupiscent and platonic relationships. You hadn’t even realised when you started adopting these behaviours from Rose, who can be very cuddly when the mood strikes her. As of late, the mood has not struck quite so often.

This morning, however, she lets you hold her. Welcomes it, even, drawing her arms around your neck. The skin of her forearms is cold on the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your back.

‘Kanaya,’ she says, then trails off.

You kiss her temple, nose the light tufts of her hair, waiting.

She takes a deep breath, but then shakes her head, apparently giving up on what she was about to say. Instead she lifts her chin upwards, hinting at a kiss. When you acquiesce, Rose immediately deepens it; a fang nicks her tongue when it slips into your mouth and you suck on the slight bleed greedily and swallow her moan. Blood might not be a necessity to survive these days in the way it used to be, but old habits die hard.

The kiss slows to a stop as quickly as it started. She gives you a weary smile, another brief kiss, and detaches from your arms to go sit at the table.

‘Am I to take the kisses and hugs as a sign that pancakes are fine, then?’ Never mind that you already started making the mixture half an hour ago.

Rose rests her head atop her arms. ‘You’re a darling,’ she tells you with a small smile.

‘Yes, this is true. Don’t forget it.’

‘Never.’

As you start making them for her, Rose turns her forehead into her wrists and speaks into the table. ‘Do you think it would be possible to make writer’s block my kismesis?’

‘That depends. Do you feel there is a mutual hatred and overwhelming desire to destroy the other between you and the writer’s block?’

‘Maybe,’ Rose replies. ‘It certainly wishes to destroy me.’

You smile at her petulant tone, audible even though her voice is muffled. ‘So melodramatic. It is a wonder you are not writing for those human television shows where everyone seems to cheat on their matesprit and kill one another instead of your novels.’ Rose tilts her head so just the top part of her face is exposed, and raises an eyebrow questioningly over the top of her arms. ‘The ones named after ablution products.’

‘Soaps,’ she corrects. You shrug. ‘I knew allowing you to watch Desperate Housewives was a bad idea.’

‘On the contrary, I believe it was a fantastic idea.’ It has been very informative.

‘I shudder to even imagine. Although, at this rate, my writing might as well be suited for that show.’ Rose groans loudly, as though trying to drown her own thoughts out, and lets her head drop back on her arms. You leave her to make noises to herself while you focus on her breakfast. She only emerges when you eventually tip pancakes onto her plate.

Sliding into the chair opposite her, one of her bare, freezing feet bumps yours beneath the table and her lip twitches up in a mute apology, while she’s busy squirting syrup on her pancakes. You watch her eat with the usual fascination – Rose is so graceful when eating, which is surprising considering the amount she can put away sometimes. You suppose it must come from living most of her childhood with someone whose cooking skills weren’t exactly gourmet. At any rate, she always seems pleased with your cooking.

‘Are you enjoying watching me?’ she asks suddenly, drawing you from your reverie.

‘I always enjoy watching you.’

‘I had noticed.’ She licks the prongs her fork free of syrup, and smirks widely when your eyes follow the movement of her tongue. ‘Really, Kanaya. I never thought you so easy.’

‘I was merely questioning the hygiene of licking the fork in such a manner,’ you shoot back haughtily.

‘Considering that I’m using this fork to eat, I imagine it’s no less hygienic than that.’ Her smile grows teasing. ‘You must have faith in our dishwasher, Kanaya, or all hell will break loose!’

You roll your eyes. ‘Well, I didn’t say I questioned it for long.’

‘Of course not, of course not.’

Things are silent after that besides the sounds of her chewing and the scrape of her knife on the plate as she continues to painstakingly cut her breakfast into even sized chunks with surgical precision before popping them into her mouth one a time. You idly read the nutritional numbers on the back of the syrup bottle as you think, careful not to give her to pleasure of continuing to watch her.

Even with the events of the other day still hanging over the two of you, you’re beginning to think that now might actually be a good time to try and speak to Rose about it properly. Reluctant as you are to actually discuss this topic for real, after so many years,enough is surely enough. It’s difficult to try and imagine Rose’s reaction, as her responses to things can be extremely unpredictable. For the most part, you imagine that she will try to direct the conversation away in some fashion.

‘Is everything okay?’

Once again, Rose’s voice alerts you to your surroundings. She’s staring at you from across the table, fairly concerned by your silence judging by her tiny frown. Not that you blame her, since Rose’s eating times are probably the only times of the day you can ramble at her freely and she won’t try (hard) to stop you, beyond giving you the odd quirk of an eyebrow or an exasperated smile. She loves her food too much to try and waste her time with it interrupting you. There’s no reason to break tradition. Placated with tasty (if you say so yourself) food, you hope she will be more amenable to the discussion.

‘Well, actually,’ you begin, fiddling with your fingers. ‘There _is_ something I wish to talk about.’

Rose’s face remains impassive around her last mouthful of pancake. She chews thoroughly for a whole minute before answering, licking her lips. ‘Yes, you seemed rather thoughtful, so I assumed you were waiting to ask me something.’

‘I was, and I’m still not sure whether this is the right time, or if it is appropriate to be asking you about it at all. But Rose, you see –’

‘Yes Kanaya, of course I’ll marry you!’ she cries, throwing her hands up in the air in an overly dramatic gesture full of snarky horsehit, fighting giggles.

‘Not now, please, Rose,’ you say irritably. You know about marriage from the television. Rose makes frequent jokes about it, although you're not sure why; on TV it always seems to end in murder or infidelity.

‘Sorry, sorry.’

‘If you could, I’d really like a straight answer from you for once, please.’

‘Well, then, please ask me a “straight” question.’ You can see she’s fighting a laugh again, at some human thing, no doubt. You have no patience for multiculturalism right now.

‘Rose.’

She stifles her final chuckles and puts on a serious face . ‘Alright, alright. I am all ears. What is it?’

‘It’s simple, really.' You sit back in your chair, fix her with an equally serious gaze. 'I just want you to explain to me, _why_.’

‘Why what?’

‘Why did you do it? Why do you do it at all, for that matter? Why has it been happening for so long?’

Naturally, given your deliberately vague questions, Rose blinks at you in confusion, smile all gone now. ‘You’ll have to be a little more specific for my sleep-deprived mind, I’m afraid.’

You hesitate. You and Rose can spend hours talking around any kind of subject and never actually saying a word about the actual topic. You’re doing exactly that again, and once again the fear rises in your chest as to what sort of answer you might receive; however, you make the reluctant decision to push forward regardless. To eliminate all ambiguity and trap Rose in the sheer bluntness of your words. Ah, Rose Lalonde. There is no escape for you this time.

‘I’m speaking, of course, about what happened a few days ago.’ Your words are measured, careful. ‘When you just left the room – left me - and then proceeded to lock yourself away in the study.’

‘Ah, that.’ Rose puts her fork down vertically across the plate, making sure to line it up directly with her knife. ‘I’d forgotten I hadn’t explained it to you.’ She joins her fingers together, pointing the index fingers and pressing them into the bottom of her chin. ‘You see, I suddenly had a burst of inspiration that had to be taken care of. You know how it is. I’m sorry it was so abrupt.’

‘A burst of inspiration,’ you repeat slowly.

‘Yes. It just this morning ran out, which why I came out. Plus, I was a little hungry,’ she adds sheepishly. ‘Not that I don’t appreciate the food you left out for me, of course, but often by the time I’d gotten to it, it had gone cold.’

‘You could have come down; I would have made you something else or heated up what I had already made.’

She shrugs, averting her gaze from you. No witty retort? This surprises you and only confirms your suspicions about why Rose stayed away. You don’t doubt that Rose did have some sort of writing epiphany, holed away in that room for hours, and probably did come out because she was hungry. Somehow, though, you don’t believe for one second that she had such an epiphany while sitting in your lap and biting your neck, and certainly not timed conveniently enough for her to deliver a snarky one-liner about it before leaving. Unless she’s writing a book about your sexual frustration. And who would read a story like that?

‘The thing is, Rose…’ You falter and clear your throat. You can’t seem to look at her properly, instead staring down at your lap and playing with a scratch in the table. This isn't working quite how you hoped. ‘This sort of situation has occurred all too often lately – for longer than I thought actually, as I realised earlier – for me to think you simply had a “burst of inspiration” at the time that might have caused you to leave.’

‘What "sort of situation"?’ You glance up briefly. The corners of her mouth have drooped into a thin line on her face.  Obviously, she knows where this conversation is going, and is clearly unhappy about it. You’re not happy about it either, but force yourself to continue reluctantly.

You bite your lip for a moment, saying in a single breath: ‘The situation wherein you have been avoiding my presence when our time together looks to be becoming more intimate, and the more long-term situation where you have determinedly avoided me touching you at all in such a manner, save a few rare occasions, often culminating in the other, aforementioned situation.’

‘ _Kanaya_.’ She pushes her plate away, frowning over the table at you. You’re amazed she understood any of that. ‘What on Earth are you talking about? I do not avoid your presence in “intimate situations”, and certainly do allow you to touch me, and kiss me. I allow no one else to do that. Or did you forget this morning, and the other day?’

‘No, I haven’t forgotten them. I also haven’t forgotten that during both times you stopped before they could progress.’

‘I have already explained what happened the other day, and this morning, I was too hungry to get into anything major. You know me and food, of course.’

You nod. You should’ve expected excuses. ‘And what are your reasons for the other times?’

‘Clearly, your libido is much more active than mine,’ Rose shoots back with a lofty shrug. ‘So it is hardly my fault that you imagine every kiss or hug or handhold leads to sex and inevitably, must be disappointed.’

The way she somehow makes that sound like an insult wounds you, especially since she was the one that used to come to you.  ‘I don’t think it’s a crime to desire my matesprit, Rose,’ you snap. Standing, you snatch up her plate, practically dropping it into the sink and wrenching the tap on. Her carefully arranged cutlery slides off the edge of the plate with a clatter.

‘I can’t say I know what you’re suggesting by bringing this up.’ Her tone is icy, sending warning prickles up your spine. Stop, stop, stop, screams your rational subconscious, but it's too late for you; you are already drawn into the sudden change of atmosphere and responding to it. Giving her what she wants, you know - confirming her fears. These things are all realised by you, but way in the back of your brain. Anger is in charge now, thanks, and it appears to be the same for Rose. 'Perhaps, that I’m not in love with you? That I’m being unfaithful? Or simply that I’m frigid?’

You whirl to face her in disbelief. ‘How exactly are you deriving these assumptions from what I’m saying?’

‘Kanaya, dear, it doesn’t take a genius to see where this is going.’

‘It isn’t going anywhere. I simply wanted to talk to you about this issue, but apparently that isn’t going to happen without your usual verbal attacks…’

‘There is no issue to discuss, Kanaya,’ she snaps, practically snarling at you, making you reel back. This is not what you intended to get out of this talk, not at all. Suddenly things are flying way out of your control before you can get a handle on them, a veritable torrent of confusing emotions unleashed in Rose despite you simply poking at the dam with a stick. She’s never spoken to you this way, ever, even in your worst arguments, which are admittedly few. Perhaps this is why.

‘If that’s what you think, then I give your intelligence far too much credit,’ you respond, as evenly as you can.

‘You give _my_ intelligence too much credit?’ she says incredulously. ‘May I remind you, I am not the one inciting an argument about nothing at all.’

This incenses you. ‘It is hardly “nothing at all”, Rose! You are feigning ignorance and pretending nothing is happening – like you always do!’

‘Okay, wait. Just calm down.’ Rose raises her hands up to you, palms outwards, a patronising display of reassurance - as though somehow you are the one being unreasonable. ‘This is getting out of control.’

‘I cannot believe you are asking me to calm down,’ you say angrily. ‘If anyone needs to, it would be you, considering the hostile manner in which you’ve been speaking to me.’

Rose sighs heavily and presses her fingers to her brow as though you are a particularly troubling child asking her stupid questions. ‘Okay, look. I am honestly too tired to argue with you right now.’ You fight the urge to tell her that there would not be an argument if she hadn’t reacted so badly in her attempt to bury her head in the sand and pretend nothing is happening. ‘I’m sorry if I have upset you somehow or made you believe I don’t want you, other than my disappearance for the last few days which again, I’m sorry for. I assure you I didn’t mean to, and hope you’ll forgive me.’

She looks at you with a determinedly blank expression, her eyes large and too bright.

You’ve known Rose too long to keeping pretending you can fall for this shit, to keep rolling over and letting her kick you in the stomach while she pretends she simply petted you. There you are, Maryam. You're already describing yourself like a woofbeast for Rose Lalonde.

‘God fucking damnit, Rose!’

Your outburst seems to surprise her; she jumps in her seat, turning alarmed eyes over to you.

Maybe she’s just shocked because you said “God” instead of “Gog” by accident. You really have known her too long.

‘Why do you always do this?’ you shout, gripping the roots of your horns in your fury. ‘You are one of the most frustrating individuals, human or troll, that I have ever had the misfortune of meeting and caring about.’

‘I don’t know why you’re getting upset, Kanaya.’ Again, that maddening, icy tone, spelling danger.

‘Yes, you do, which is precisely the point! You know exactly what I’m talking about, yet you still retreat into this glacial shell built from sarcastic defences and denial, meticulously chosen words to deflect my questions and make me believe nothing is wrong. And what is worse, I allow you to get away with it. I honestly don’t know who is more messed up in this situation.’

Rose is a shrunken figure in her chair, glaring at you, cheeks scarlet; a cornered animal, hunched over and ready to lash out, waiting for the right moment. But you’re on a roll and do not allow her a second to talk back.

‘I am trying to have an honest talk with you, for once in our lives, but it seems that I am being blocked by walls on every level. Within minutes of me bringing the topic up you immediately became defensive, and antagonistic, not to mention unnecessarily rude towards me. So Rose, please inform me: why can’t we deal with this issue together, like a normal, functional couple might? Not that I have any idea of what a normal and functional couple might do, given who my matesprit is.’

To your horror, your voice is cracking slightly as you speak, but you blink back those inconvenient  tears. Rose has turned away from you now, and her fists are clenched on the table in front of you. Her shoulders are a rigid line, arms pressed to her sides.

You’re not done.

‘I’m beginning to think that it is truly impossible to have a sincere conversation with you.’ A tut, cold and disapproving. See, you can be patronising too. ‘I honestly wonder why I even try, sometimes.’

Finally Rose cuts in, her voice tight and rough, ‘Then, I ask: why bother?’

That snaps you out of it. ‘Wh - what?’

‘I know that you heard me.’ She says it flatly, but you can hear her voice trembling minutely beneath it all. ‘If you don’t know why you bother dealing with me, then don’t bother at all. That’s the _simplest_ solution, after all.’

You shake your head in disgust at her immature response. ‘You are not a wriggler, Rose, so don’t act like one.’

‘Hm,’ says Rose, pretending to think. She puts a finger to her chin, finally turning back to you – her eyes are glassy and red around the edges. ‘Calling me immature in a round-about way. That’s a new insult from you, although not entirely original in a general sense. Might I suggest looking for some new material?’

It’s a weak retort from Rose. You aren’t going to wait until she regains her ability to deliver cutting insults; you’ve had enough of this. Of her.

‘Thanks for the breakfast!’ Rose calls after you in a falsely cheery voice as you storm out.

You have to storm back in briefly to get your laptop – husktop, fuck human words right now - from the countertop.

Rose says nothing to you this time, but you feel her eyes on you as you leave a second time, and hear her sniff behind you.

 

 

**

 

GA: She Is Just So

GA: Urrgh

CG: SERIOUSLY, REMIND ME AGAIN WHY THE FUCK SHE’S YOUR MATESPRIT?

GA: Karkat That Is An Incredibly Stupid Question And Not Really Helpful At All

CG: HEY, I’M NOT YOUR MOIRAIL, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO OR SAY?

GA: I Honestly Have No Clue Im Not Even Sure Why I Am Trying To Discuss This With You

GA: You Were The Only One Online I Suppose

GA: But Something Along The Lines of Useful Advice Or Thoughtful Questions Would Be Nice Maybe

CG: I JUST ASKED YOU A THOUGHTFUL QUESTION, BUT I’LL REPEAT IT AGAIN ANYWAY IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: WHY THE FUCK IS SHE YOUR MATESPRIT?

GA: And I Told You That Was A Stupid Question

GA: I Am Flushed For Her And She Is Flushed For Me

GA: Presumably

CG: HUH, YEAH, THAT WORD’S KIND OF THE CLINCHER, ISN’T IT. “PRESUMABLY”. YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW FOR SURE BECAUSE SHE’S SO GODDAMN SECRETIVE AND MYSTERIOUS ABOUT HER EMOTIONS FOR NO FUCKING REASON. LOOK WHAT SHE’S TURNED YOU INTO.

GA: Look You Dont Know Rose

GA: She Cant Really Help It

GA: This Is Simply How She Deals With Things

CG: WHY ARE YOU MAKING EXCUSES FOR HER? YOU WERE ANGRY AT HER JUST A LITTLE WHILE AGO FOR THIS.

GA: I Was Not Making Excuses Merely Pointing Out As Someone With Intimate Knowledge Of Rose That She Is Not So Bad As You Make Out

CG: INTIMATE KNOWLEDGE. HA. SURE, DOESN’T REALLY SOUND LIKE THAT FROM WHERE I’M SITTING.

GA: Karkat That Was A Very Low Blow

CG: SORRY. I SHOULDN’T HAVE SAID THAT.

GA: I Accept Your Apology

GA: However

GA: You May Have A Point

CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

GA: About My Consistent Defending Of Her Actions And Making Excuses For Her

GA: Im Not Sure I Seem To Constantly Fall Into A Habit Of Doing That Regardless Of Whether Her Actions Hurt Me

CG: THAT’S MESSED UP, KANAYA. YOU SHOULDN’T BE LETTING HER GET AWAY WITH ALL THIS SHIT.

GA: Yes I Know That Okay

GA: And It Is Partially My Fault For Allowing It To Go On For This Long

GA: But I Wont Any Longer

CG: ROSE NEEDS A GODDAMN MOIRAIL.

GA: Maybe

GA: Is That Even A Thing That Humans Can Do

GA: I Have No Idea I Find Human Relationships So Confusing And Yet I Am In One Well Sort Of

CG: IF SHE CAN INSERT HERSELF INTO YOUR RED QUADRANT AND SCREW THINGS UP SO BADLY, THEN SHE’S PROBABLY CAPABLE OF PALE FEELINGS SOMEHOW. IF SHE’S CAPABLE OF FEELINGS AT ALL.

CG: SIGNS POINT TO NO.

GA: Im Not Sure How To Respond To That

GA: Quadrant Discussions Aside Though

GA: Do You Have Any Suggestions As I Am Just Not Sure How To Approach The Situations Now

CG: WHAT’S SHE DOING RIGHT NOW?

GA: I Have No Clue I Have Not Seen Her In A Few Hours

GA: Presumably She Is Still Downstairs

CG: WELL THEN I DO HAVE A COUPLE OF SUGGESTIONS.

GA: Really

GA: What Are They

CG: GO DOWN THERE AND TEAR THAT ASSHOLE A NEW ASSHOLE.

GA: …

GA: And The Other Suggestions

CG: THEY SORT OF RUN ALONG THE SAME LINES, BUT WITH MORE CHAINSAW ACTION.

GA: Those Are Truly Inspiring Ideas Karkat

GA: Tell Me How Are All Of Your Quadrants Still Not Filled

CG: HEY, DON’T PULL THAT LALONDE SARCASM CRAP ON ME. GOG, YOU’RE EVEN STARTING TO TALK LIKE HER.

GA: Yes Okay We Will Deal With The Issue Of My Picking Up Verbal Habits From Rose At A Later Stage Karkat But Can We Please Focus On The Problem At Hand Here First

CG: UGH FINE.

CG: JUST GO FUCKING TALK TO HER AGAIN. ONLY THIS TIME KEEP YOUR ACROBATIC FLIPS OFF THE HANDLE TO A MINIMUM, NOT THAT I BLAME YOU FOR DOING THAT, SINCE I WOULD’VE DONE THAT YEARS AGO, BELIEVE ME.

CG: STAY CALM AND USE SOOTHING VOICES.

CG: FUCK, USE TRANQUILISERS.

GA: Karkat

CG: AND WHEN YOU GET HER WHERE YOU WANT HER, TIE HER UP AND CHUCK HER INTO A RIVER. CASE CLOSED AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED.

GA: Karkat If You Arent Going To Be Serious Im Going To Leave

CG: I *WAS* SERIOUS.

****

Finally closing your husktop on Karkat, you lean back in your chair, letting out a long sigh and massaging your temples.

Speaking to Karkat was a bad idea. If anything, it just riled you up further, although you know he meant well. It's just that he's never had a lot of patience for Rose even before you got together – as much as he has patience for anyone – but his protective streak seems to lash out where you are concerned, meaning any negative emotions felt by you as a result of Rose’s actions result in you mediating while he tries to deliver a scathing verbal attack to Rose, which is rarely received well. You’re surprised he held back this much, actually. Maybe he’s finally accepting the two of you.

Or … Maybe he knows as well as you do, that this all could’ve been avoided if you’d spoken up before. They all knew it; Karkat, Dave, Jade, John. All of them encouraged you to speak to her yet you avoided doing so, prolonging the inevitable to save yourself getting hurt. And yet here you are anyway: hurt, and exhausted. And also, a little thirsty.

Actually, you’re _really_ thirsty. Emotions are such dehydating things.

Should you try and venture downstairs and get a drink? You haven’t heard Rose stomping around the house for quite a while, so she’s probably either left the house or is hiding away in the study again. You decide to risk it. Staying up here all day isn’t doing anything for you and Rose. As always, the stairs squeak loudly as you go downstairs, making you wince. To your surprise though, you find Rose asleep on the couch in the living room, evidently unawakened by your noisy entrance. A shirt of yours that you left downstairs to sew a button back on at some point is on the floor nearby, while before it was on the table.

You don’t like to assume, but part of you thinks she might have been holding it at some point. Or maybe she was considering destroying it. Who knows.

You don’t try and wake her, but instead head back upstairs silently, having forgotten your drink. Karkat is still online, thankfully.

GA: Shes Asleep

CG: WHAT.

GA: Rose

GA: She Was Up All Night Writing So I Assume Thats Why Shes Tired

GA: In Fact That Might Be The Reason Why She Was So Testy This Morning

CG: OH, WELL, THAT EXPLAINS EVERYTHING.

CG: KANAYA, SHE GETS AWAY WITH ENOUGH SHIT WITHOUT YOU ADDING TO IT.

CG: KANAYA?

GA: Sorry

GA: Its Just

GA: Youre Right

CG: WAIT.

CG: WHAT?

GA: I Do Let Her Get Away With Everything And Im Not Going To Anymore

\-- grimAuxilitarix [ GA ] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [ CG ] at 11:30 --

****

**= > Be Rose.**

Of course, you woke up as soon as Kanaya came downstairs. The floorboards are ridiculously creaky, and you’re always a little too tuned into Kanaya’s movements anyway. This has been especially true over the last few days, where you’ve had one ear trained for every footstep on the landing for any sign of Kanaya, in case she might suddenly decide to break down the door and kidnap you. She never did, of course, and never once even tried to come in. For two people that talk so much and also draw comfort from the company of the other when you aren’t talking, you’ve spent an awful lot of time apart, avoiding each other in the last week or so.

When she comes in, you feel her eyes on you, but you – cowardly you - don’t dare move or open your eyes. She must see the shirt on the floor, which only minutes before you were hugging to your chest like a scared little child. Which you are, really. You wanted to hurl it away from you as soon as you knew she was coming, but with your aim, it only landed a few feet away from you. Just as you were about to jump for it, her footsteps clattered in the hallway and it’s too late;  you had to fling yourself back against the couch cushions and pretend to be asleep.

After a moment you hear her leave, and allow your body to relax a little, letting out a deep sigh and rolling onto your back.

Out of the corner of your eye you can still see that shirt, sitting there innocent as anything and tormenting you. After a moment, you lean forward from the couch to snatch it up with one hand. Your quarry caught, you nestle into the familiar smell of Kanaya in the material.

It seems like important people to you always become simply a scent to you. Like perfume, caught in the fabric of a blood-stained pink scarf in the hands of a thirteen year old. Your heart twinges - more like seizes in your chest, really - at the idea that Kanaya might one day just be a scent on a piece of clothing to you, and that the reality of that is closer than you could’ve imagined.

There’s no doubt in your mind that you should really be upstairs, apologising. You’re not stupid, after all, just really, really terrible at showing your emotions. She doesn’t deserve your rudeness. She doesn’t deserve you avoiding her. And she definitely doesn’t deserve the way you’ve been treating her. How you’ve treated her for a long time, longer than you’d care to admit even in the privacy of your own thoughts: like a punching bag for your explosive emotions, one that will take and take and take all of your shit and never say a word, never question your motives. But Kanaya’s a person – troll, rather - and she deserves better.

Kanaya deserves an explanation.

The trouble is, you don’t want to give it to her.

At all.

No, you just want to lie on the couch forever, face buried deep into the smell of her, and wait for things to pass by and fix themselves on their own somehow. You won’t bother getting up to eat or drink. What’s the point when all you do is mess up? Instead you’ll just lie here until you die from starvation, your body becoming stiff against the couch cushions. Kanaya will eventually come down and see your withered, emaciated body and fall to her knees sobbing, clutching you to her chest and weeping that she wished she hadn’t said anything, that she’s sorry. But you won’t hear her. You’ll be dead.

 _God_ , you’re so immature. Sometimes you think you haven’t grown at all since ending the game, or indeed since starting it. You might be taller, curvier, and yes, possessing breasts is a lovely thing, but emotionally, you’re still in the 13-year-old mentality you had when you met her.

You groan and bury your face in the crook of your elbow. It’s been five years. You’ve been with Kanaya for three of them. You have treated her like shit for all of them.

You are the worst matesprit. It is you.

And if you’re ever going to make it any better, you need to go apologise to her.

**= > Rose: Suck it up and go apologise.**

You really, really don’t want to do that.

**= > Rose: Do it anyway.**

Yeah, yeah. You’re going.

You fetch your phone on the way, logging into Pesterchum as you take slow steps towards the stairs.

Inwardly you’re groaning at your own cowardice, but you reassure yourself by saying you’re just trying to clear the air before you _really_ apologise.

****

\-- tentacleTherapist [ TT] began pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA ] at 11:25 –-

TT: Hi.

GA: Rose

GA: Why Are You Online I Just Went Downstairs And You Were Asleep

TT: I wasn’t.

GA: Why Were You Pretending

TT: I wasn’t ready to talk to you.

GA: Yet Here We Are And I Presume That We Are Talking Are We Not Let Me Check

GA: Yes It Seems We Are In Fact Having A Conversation If The Words Appearing On The Screen Are Anything To Go By

GA: However I Am Not Seeing The Set Of Words Appearing On The Screen Which I Want To Right Now

GA: In Case That Wasnt Clear I Mean An Apology

TT: I knew what you meant.

GA: And

GA: Im Waiting

TT: And… I’m getting to it. Give me a moment.

GA: Okay

GA: Your Moment Is Up

GA: Come To Think Of It It Is Pretty To Low To Be Trying To Apologise To Me Over A Chat Client

GA: The Least I Deserve Is A Face To Face One Don’t You Think

TT: Yes, you’re right.

GA: I Am

GA: I Mean Yes I Am

TT: Kanaya, you don’t use punctuation. I wouldn’t have been able to tell that was meant to be a question.

GA: Yes Well My Typing Quirk Is Hardly The Topic Of Discussion

GA: After All A Whole Minute Has Passed And I Do Not See Any Sign Of You In My Room Nor You On Your Knees Begging For Forgiveness And Giving Me A Heartfelt Apology At Which I Will Laugh Scornfully

TT: Wow, you really are angry at me.

GA: Did You Think That I Wouldnt Be

TT: No, I did. But I’ve never seen you so upset. It’s really hammering it home how much I fucked up. How much I keep fucking up.

GA: Good

GA: It Has Recently Been Pointed Out To Me That I Have Fallen Into A Habit Of Allowing You To Get Away With Things And Upsetting Me For A Little Too Long

GA: So It Is Good You Are Aware Of Your Mistakes

GA: I Guess

TT: I’m so sorry, Kanaya.

GA: Mm Well I Would Prefer To Hear It From Your Lips But That Is A Start I Suppose

TT: I honestly didn’t mean for this to happen; I didn’t realise I was hurting you.

GA: Are You Serious Rose

GA: How Could You Not Know

TT: Alright, so I knew a little bit – but I was too wrapped up in my own problems, too selfish to care. It’s been like this for so long, I almost started to think you didn’t mind.

GA: Excuse My Language But That Is Pretty Much Hoofbeast Shit

GA: How Would I Not Mind Rose You Were Avoiding Sex With Me At Every Turn And When It Happened I Was Not Allowed To Touch You At All

TT: I know! I know what I did, what I’ve been doing. It was stupid and it was cowardly of me. I feel awful enough, Kanaya. I’ve let you down so much and taken you for granted when I shouldn’t have.

TT: Please, I just want to fix this, in any way that I can.

GA: Are You Crying

TT: How did you know?

GA: I Can Hear You Sniffling Rather Loudly Outside The Door

TT: Oh.

GA: If You Dont Mind Rose I Have Changed My Mind

GA: I Dont Think I Want To Let You In Here Just Yet

TT: Thouht you wanted a face-to-face apology

TT: *Thought

GA: I Do But If I See You Crying I Will Cave Much Faster In Response To Your Apology Than I Wish To And Potentially Allow You To Drop The Discussion For Another Time If Only To Stop You Looking So Forlorn

GA: It Appears Your Tears Have A Frustrating Effect On My Resolve In That They Dissolve It Completely

GA: And I Would Like To Keep My Resolve For Just A Little Longer In Order To Get To The Bottom Of This

GA: So If You Could Temporarily Move To Another Room Where I Cannot Hear You That Would Be Lovely Thank You

GA: We Can Still Chat Here

TT: Okay. I’ve moved.

GA: Great

GA: Rose I Am Not That Angry With You Anymore I Just Want You To Know

TT: You’re not?

GA: No

GA: Frankly I Just Want To Know Why This Whole Mess Was Even A Thing

GA: That Is The Part I Could Never Get My Head Around

GA: Trying To Find A Logical Reason Why You Might Act The Way You Did Towards Me

GA: I Even Asked Your Friends And Brother For Advice And They Had No Idea What Was Happening Either

TT: You did what??

GA: If That You Did What With The Double Question Marks Came From A Place Of Annoyance Somehow I Dont Think You Are In A Position To Question My Actions

GA: Considering How Asking The Source Has Turned Out Rather Badly For Me

TT: Point taken, I suppose.

GA: For A Long Time Now I Have Been Left Only To My Imagination To Provide Reasons As To Why You Respond To My Touch In Such A Way

GA: Among Many Explanations The One My Mind Unfortunately Kept Coming Back To Was That Your Feelings For Me Were Not In The Red Quadrant At All

GA: And Secretly You Had Paler Feelings For Me But Feared Telling Me Somehow

TT: No!

TT: No, that’s not it at all.

TT: Kanaya, I love you. I’m flushed for you. I pity you. I could use every love analogy under the sun from both of our species to describe how I feel for you, but we’re short on time here.

GA: Then Why Did It Happen

TT: I…

TT: I don’t know.

GA: More Hoofbeast Shit You Simply Dont Want To Tell Me

TT: Perhaps.

TT: Or perhaps I’m reluctant to get into a conversation about my lingering teenage insecurities about sex, my control issues, and my general inability to express my emotions over this chat client, where I will not be able to cling to you in desperation or bury my face into your neck as I spill my heart to you, or feel your soothing fingers in my hair or stroking over my shaking shoulders to calm me as I finally stop being such a douchebag.

GA: Urrgh

GA: Rose Lalonde You Truly Drive Me Insane Sometimes

GA: Just Get In Here Already

  ** **  
****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People need to write more K/R arguments. It's been pretty interesting. I hope their sheer fucked up teenagery-ness is coming through.
> 
> The next chapter may be split into 2. Depends how much of a cop-out I feel like doing.


	3. In Which Kanaya Is Too Self-Aware

**= > Kanaya: Be nervous about speaking to your matesprit.**

****

Nervous hardly covers it. You wait anxiously for Rose’s usual conservative rapping of her knuckles on the wood and are not disappointed; in your mind, it sounds subdued, as much as a knock can convey any sort of emotional at all.

For a moment, you hesitate. There’s still time to simply abandon the whole issue right now, and you seriously consider just telling Rose to leave you alone. Today’s been emotional enough already, you think; despite all your nagging and sarcastic comments to Rose you’re starting to think you don’t actually _want_ her to explain, lest all your old fears about it actually _do_ have basis in reality. Perhaps Rose was simply lying about its relation to her personal insecurities, rather than it being your fault. For a moment you really don't want to find out either way. ** **  
****

It's only a fleeting thought, since you hear Rose sniffling outside the door again.

'Come in.’

The top of Rose’s head peeps around the door for a moment before she enters properly, arms crossed nervously across her chest. You bow your head to your laptop to avoid her eyes, pretending to be busy chatting to someone, even though you stopped talking to Karkat some time ago.

‘Hi.’ The single syllable is nasal and stuffy, the clear after-effects of recent crying. Rose’s approach to the bed where you sit is slow, every step measured and careful. ‘What’re you up to?’

'Nothing of much interest,’ you reply, eyes still on your laptop even though the screen has long since gone dark. 'I was merely talking to Karkat. And you, of course,' you add unnecessarily after a moment.

There’s a palpable awkwardness, a heavy silence descending between the two of you. You disguise your watching of her by looking up through your lashes; Rose is watching you too and constantly shifts her weight from foot to foot, wiping her face with the sleeve of her shirt. You decide Rose needs prompting, or she will simply stand there forever staring into space.

‘Didn’t you have something to say?’ you ask, tone pointed.

Rose looks suddenly startled, as though having forgotten you were there. 'Yes, of course. I remember... I was just trying to - to get up the nerve, you see.’

‘You managed when we were online.’

‘This is different.’

You nod, a little irritated. It’s not that you don’t understand the apprehension, of course - but you can’t stand the silence. You wait, hands folded in your lap. You cross one leg over the other. You tap your nails on the surface of your laptop.  Throughout it all, you never take your eyes off her.

Rose groans at your behaviour. 'Thank you, Kanaya, for making this ordeal as painless as possible for your suffering matesprit. Kind doesn’t even cover it.’

‘You're welcome,' you reply simply. She rolls her eyes at you, but sinks to the floor beside your legs anyway. As you continue to gaze at her with your most practised expectant look, her eyes turn up to the ceiling again. Despite your protests, also known as blatant lies (‘I was in the middle of doing something, Rose!’) she sets aside your laptop and tugs on your hand. It takes a few tries, but eventually she manages to pull you off the bed and down onto your knees beside her.

‘Now you have corrected the non-existent height issue, may we move on?’ you ask politely.

Rose squeezes her eyes shut in annoyance, gritting her teeth. ‘Kanaya, please…’  Something in the tone of her voice catches your attention. The skin around Rose's eyes is raw from being rubbed dry. Okay, so maybe you’re being unnecessarily hard on her, and as you knew it would, your anger with her is fading quickly at the sight of her despondent expression. You want to reach out and touch her.

Instead you sigh in exasperation.

'Rose, it was your idea to come in here, and I assumed the purpose behind it was to apologise. Or at least open the doorways for a mature discussion about the whole thing.'

'I’m getting to it, however slowly it might appear to be to you,’ she snaps. ‘So. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t push me.’

You can tell she’s seriously losing her patience with you now and bite back your next annoyed comment. ‘... Alright.’

After another minute of silence passes where Rose opens and closes her mouth and makes odd faces at the thoughts that cross her mind, she lets out a little growl at her inability to say anything coherent. She pinches the bridge of her nose. ‘I must be far more arrogant than I thought, if I am finding this so difficult.’

Rose looks so frustrated with herself that you allow your chilly demeanour to melt a little, placing your hand on her arm.

‘I don’t consider it arrogance,’ you tell her, in a softer voice. ‘It’s always hard to admit mistakes, no matter who you are.’ You pause to ponder the situation, peering at the heavy weight of your hand on her arm as though the secrets of the world were written on her biceps. She’s trembling ever so slightly, poor dear. The last reserves of annoyance with Rose drain from your body. Oh well. Being the bigger person can’t hurt too much. ‘On that note, I think I ought to apologise as well.’

‘You? What do you need to apologise for?’

‘Well, several things. Firstly, I feel I was unnecessarily rude and sarcastic to you, this morning and in our brief online conversation just now. It likely did not help matters. So I apologise for that.’ Rose stays quiet, a troubled furrow still in her brow. ‘Secondly, I wish to apologise for not trying to get to the bottom of this situation earlier.’

‘You don’t need to say sorry for that. Any of it,’ she says quickly. ‘It’s all my fault, and I should take responsibility for it.’

‘I don’t agree. I think some blame lies with each of us,’ you respond, tone gentle, but firm. ‘Perhaps if I had actually confronted you on what was going on in the first place, things would not have reached this stage.’

Rose laughs, the sound bitter and miserable, unfitting in the cheery early afternoon light of the room. The backdrop is all wrong for relationship issues, you find yourself thinking. This conversation should be taking place at two in the morning after a hard night of imbibing soporifics, human or otherwise; a resentful, explosive argument with hurtful words while the rain pelts at the window and a storm booms. Instead Rose is sat on the bedroom floor next to you on the unvacuumed carpet, at twelve in the afternoon as the two of you repeatedly grab the baton of blame back from the other.

The two of you are a real pair.

‘In all honesty, Kanaya, I don’t think it would’ve changed much in the end. I would likely have continued to treat you without the respect you deserve, continually taking advantage of you until the day you finally grew weary of it and abandoned me, where I would die alone with twenty-seven cats, all named after you.’

Oh, Rose. It’s such a typical response from her, exaggerated insecurities wrapped up in a bland statement, complete with perfectly nonchalant delivery. You can’t fight a smile.

‘Somehow I have my doubts that would happen. If nothing else, I think I would miss the particular brand of melodrama which you fall prey to when particularly upset.’

To your surprise, rather than continuing with the banter, Rose simply regards you for a very long moment. This is followed by an extensive sigh, built up tension escaping her body along with the air.

Then, in a flurry of motion, she twists at the waist, forehead bumping against your shoulder, hands pulling out of yours. You stiffen out of surprise, but then she begins to tug at you insistently and you realise she’s trying, clumsily, to arrange your stiff limbs into holding her.

Uncertainly, you acquiesce.

Another sigh. Rose does that a lot, you’ve noticed. The perfect non-reaction for her. ‘I’m sorry. I am so sorry, Kanaya,’ she repeats.

She sounds so absolutely miserable that your heart aches a little, and you hold her tighter.

‘… I’m sorry too.’

‘And I love you,’ she whispers into your shirt, clinging to you, although she would never describe it as such out loud. ‘I love you so much, I do, you know that don’t you?’

You think she might be crying again, judging by the slight dampness on your neck. You say nothing about it, though, simply holding her, kissing her temple. Nodding that you do know, murmuring the same to her.

The two of you sit there for  quite some time. Rose is basically sat in your lap, legs curled beneath her and all her weight shifted onto you. You stroke her hair until she’s completely relaxed, inwardly a little surprised she hasn’t gone to find her headbands yet. Remembering the other day, you run your nails over the back of her neck; predictably, Rose shivers and snuggles closer.

Her lips part and brush your jaw as she speaks. ‘You’ll be abusing that at any opportunity you get, won’t you.’

‘Of course. Did you expect anything less of me?’

A chuckle, her breath puffing out on your skin. ‘Never. Nor do I find myself minding, somehow.’

‘You might have fooled me, considering how you reacted the other day.’

‘Yes, well. I was wrong to do that. I have been wrong to do a lot of things.’

At that, she detaches herself from your embrace, her hands on your thighs for balance as she sits back on her heels. Her fingers flex on your skin, curling around your leg so her fingertips graze your inner thigh.

‘Where are you going?’ you ask.

‘Not far, don’t worry. Simply... repositioning. For extra comfort, you see.’ Before you have a chance to ask what she’s doing, she’s thrown her legs over either side of your hips and planted herself in your lap. A position very familiar to you, but not one you had been expecting.

‘Rose, what ...’

‘Shush...’

‘... Did you just shush me?’

‘Yes. So _shush_.’

She swallows. Your eyes (tied to your stomach, clearly) are drawn to the movement in her throat, and you then predictably get distracted seeing the twitching movement of the skin at her pulse point while her heart beat speeds up. Enough that you don't see her face get even closer to you, if possible.

'... Erm ...'

Rose’s noise of apprehension draws your gaze back up, and only now do you realise how close she is, near enough you can see the renewed red around her eyes and every damp lash stuck together.

Your body seems to know what’s happening, judging by the jump in your stomach. Your mind though, is a few paces behind registering what she’s doing.

'... Yes?'

‘Oh, fuck it,’ she exclaims, and kisses you, hard.

This kiss is different from ones you’ve shared with her before. Not just because after only a few moments of your lips touching, Rose snatches up your wrist and presses your hand against her breast, moving to cover it with her own. But also because you can taste old tears on her lips and feel her trembling badly under you, even worse than before.

You pull away immediately, but she's holding your face so you can't move far. ‘Rose, no.’

'What's the matter?'

‘I thought we were going to talk about this.’

She licks her lips, looking like she wishes you didn’t remember that particular part of your previous conversation. ‘I know. I said we would. And we will - afterwards, I promise you. But first, I need to - to show you first, because I can’t bear you thinking... that I don’t want you. When I do. It’s just that it’s complicated, more than you know, but this is simple and I can prove it. Please,’ she says, the most disjointed speech you’ve ever heard from her. You have no idea what she’s talking about, except that it basically amounts to “sex now, resolving problems later.”

She tries to kiss you again, but you dodge, making her lips land on your jaw. ‘This isn’t going to help anything,’ you tell her sadly, detaching one of her hands from your face to entwine her fingers with yours. ‘It will simply turn out like all the other times. You will take control and eventually not allow me to touch you, and inevitably end the whole thing prematurely.’

‘I promise you, that's not how it's going to happen this time.’

‘I would really rather you did not have sex with me simply so you can prove a point, Rose.’

‘It’s not like that!’

‘Then what is it like?’

She sags, letting out a frustrated breath at your question. Her forehead bumps against yours and Rose’s words spill out in a heated rush. She still keeps her lips inches from yours as she knows it will help in distracting you rather nicely.

‘Are you aware of what our problem is, Kanaya? We rely far too much on words, you and I; we mask what we really feel in semantics, and essentially say nothing at all. That’s how we’ve always worked, and I love our little wordplay games; how I can bounce any sarcastic remark your way and know you will give as good as you get.’

She kisses you again - only a small one - before she starts speaking again.

‘But sometimes words are suffocating. And even I can find myself lost in the sheer breadth of vocabulary available to me, trying to pluck from midair which sentences I might construct to try and explain to you things countless writers, poets, playwrights have tried to put on paper before me and never quite succeeded. I can try all I like. I’m only eighteen,’ she adds, a touch of humour in her voice, ‘give me a year or two.

‘In the meantime, though, I struggle. I can try all I like, but nothing will ever be quite enough. When you ask me “what it’s like”, I’m afraid I’m going to have to resort to an old cliché and say that actions speak louder than words, and try and explain to you how I feel in the basest language I can. You want me to explain “what it’s like”?

‘It’s like ... this.’

She presses your joined hands down her body until it’s between her thighs, making her skirt ride up to her waist. There’s obvious heat residing there, dampness seeping through the material to your fingers, and. Well. Thoughts. What are thoughts? You just don’t know.

She whispers against your mouth, which is suddenly very dry, ‘I want you to touch me. Need you to, even.’

‘Why now?’ Your voice is ringing in your ears, attention half on Rose's words and half on her tiny gasps as you apply pressure with your fingertips despite your misgivings.  It's insane, but you're finding it hard to concentrate, to remember that you're supposed to be talking about this, not - well. What even are you doing?

Never mind that, your libido tells you carelessly. Rose is right. Actions speak louder than words, blah blah blah. Screw her.

Oh, fuck. It’s ridiculous how much impact this woman has on you, this tiny blonde human you could literally pick up and throw to the other side of the room right now. Instead you’re letting her manipulate your fingers into pressing between her legs, pulling the right strings on your hormones and frustration until you can’t really remember why you were protesting in the first place.

‘I was scared, I’ll - reluctantly - admit that,’ Rose says. She chokes a little on her words. ‘However. I don’t want to be anymore, and this seems like the best way to get over it. Immersion therapy, you know.’

You’re not sure what that is, but she makes it sound plausible. You allow her one kiss when she asks for it. Which soon turns into two. And then three. And then she's pushing you onto your back and sucking your tongue into her mouth, pushing upwards against your body, shirt over your head before you even realise it.  The hole in your stomach was healed after the end of the game but sometimes it still feels sensitive and raw to the touch. Rose knows this, and passes her fingers over your belly with the lightest of touches until you shiver.

'Are you sure?' you pant in between kisses.

'Yes,' she murmurs, her lips travelling down your neck. 'Are you?'

You’re about to say “no”. You really are. But then a tiny part of you (okay maybe an average sized part of you and it’s making itself rather well known against Rose’s thigh right now) thinks - why not? You’re not stupid enough to think this’ll fix much, but since this is a rather problematic area for the both of you, it might have some benefits in the end. So after a moment, you nod. ‘Yes.’ But it’s going to be on _your_ terms. So you also ask, 'However, do you not think it might be my turn to be on top, Rose?'

She arches an eyebrow at you, not saying no, but not quite yes either yet.

‘I know you quite enjoy being in a position of power over me whenever you can, given that your shorter stature and comparatively weak body makes this a rare occurrence.’

She looks mildly affronted, as was your intention. Banter always calms Rose down. You suspect she even gets turned on by it, although that could be the pot calling the kettle black there. ‘I assure you that I don’t need to be physically on top of you to be in a position of power.’

‘Maybe so.’ You sit up and kiss her again, nudging your nose against hers and feeling from the slump in her shoulders that she’s slowly managing to relax. Good. ‘Nonetheless, that is not what is happening today.’

She says nothing as the two of you move to the bed and you roll her onto her back, fitting your hips in between her thighs. Your bulge nudges up between her legs through your skirt; when you glance up, you catch the wistfulness in her expression.

‘Sorry,’ you mumble, and mean it. From her small smile, she knows what you mean.

You tried it “inside”, once. And only once. It was good – fantastic, even, for a short time. For you. For Rose’s part, she had to learn the hard - and rather painful -  way that human and troll anatomy just don’t fit together, despite their superficial similarities above the waist.

That is… square peg. Round hole.

Rose has dropped vague hints at trying again a few times, on the rare occasions you could get her to speak about such things in more than riddles. Much as you’d like to, frankly, you just don’t like to cause her pain if you can help it. You might be a troll and therefore it is hardwired in your psychology to be violent – and you know full well from experience what humans are capable of taking – but you can never shake the protective feeling when you look at how small Rose is compared to your unfortunate hulking build. Never mind that the pain is exactly why Rose seems somewhat curious to try again.

‘It’s alright. One day,’ she says. You have no idea what that means, so you simply sit Rose up and pull her shirt over her head as well, pleased to find she's not wearing a bra.

Breasts are fascinating things, too. You don’t get much chance to see them, not as often as you’d like anyway. Which is all the time. You take the moment to hold the weight in your palm, drawing your thumb over the hardened nipple until Rose’s breath catches; you look up at her face and see from her face that she’s embarrassed about the sound. Hers are not very sensitive, you know, but she will still respond to the intimacy of the caress, the cold touch of your fingers soon replaced by your hot mouth fastening over a nipple. At that she arches up, fingers tangling in your hair. She's still shaking slightly, so you pass your fingers up and down her sides until she stops and places her hands on your shoulders for stability.

Your attention is on her breasts and her reactions, of course, but you can’t help but notice, despite your distractions, that she’s lost some weight recently. You don’t comment, obviously, knowing weight to be a particularly sensitive topic to humans, but it does break through the fog of your brain a little, makes you question your decisions.

You break away from her nipple, beginning to say, ‘Maybe we should -’ Rose is impatient, though, grabbing your hand and pushing it to her hip, curling your fingers around the edge of the material there. Obediently, you begin to shimmy her underwear down her thighs.

Never mind. You’ll ask later...

Just as you manage to pull them halfway down her calves, Rose suddenly takes hold of your horns and draws her thumbs back and forth along the inside edge, startling you. Your horns are not that sensitive higher up on the horn, but becomes increasingly so nearer the scalp. Rose knows this, of course, and so her touch is just nearing off-putting.

‘If you are attempting to distract me, it isn’t working.’

‘I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

Her smirk widens, and so does her grip, fingers splaying out so her pinky finger caresses lower down. You quickly pull her underwear off in one pull and throw them aside, then reach up to grab her hands and push them up above her head, pinned beneath yours.

The look of surprise on Rose’s face lasts only a second before she regains her composure, acting like it’s a common occurrence for you to have Rose beneath you like this.

Still, you can't help but ask. 'Are you okay?' you murmur, placing kisses over her collarbone. She says nothing, which isn’t so unusual; it's quite normal for Rose to be quiet throughout. She often comes with barely a whimper, her face buried in your neck to stifle the noises and make sure you can’t see her. Not today. You bite at the swell of her breast harshly, making her jump, although your tongue lingers over the scrapes in a manner that is a tad apologetic. ‘I asked you a question.’

'Yes,' she hisses, and you get the feeling she's not just replying to your question. As you lick and suck at her skin your fingers are tracing shapes down below, drifting around her thighs to the point where leg meets hip. The insides of Rose’s thighs are wet, and her hips lift into your touch but you don’t give in, instead making it even lighter.

You want to tease her. To make her know what she’s put you through the past few years. It’s getting harder and harder to carry on, though, because really you just want to bury your fingers inside her and make her beg for you.

When you spend too long merely stroking along her leg, she fixes you with a meaningful look, eyes narrowed. Rose says through gritted teeth, ‘Kanaya, get on with it.’

‘Get on with what?’ You smile at her as nicely as you can, trying to mask your amusement.

‘Touch me… Please.’

For a moment your memory flits back to old times on the asteroid. You can still see her old tells; from her half-lidded eyes, the digging of her fingernails into your forearms, and her parted, bitten lips, you know that she really does need you.

Right now.

You slide your fingers over her and watch her eyelids flutter. Rose shifts, swallowing heavily, hips lifting. It’s obvious what she wants and you give in quickly this time, too eager to feel her again. She’s wet and hot inside; you bite back a groan at the feel of her pulsing around your fingers. It’s been far too long.

You stay there for a few moments, simply savouring the feel of her. She bites her lip, hard, staring up at the join between the two of you with a determinedly steady gaze despite the hitching in her breath.

‘Move,’ she demands.

You do, using the minimal amount of effort you can to still be considered moving. It's taking a massive amount of effort to restrain yourself. She narrows her eyes at you but says nothing this time, apparently willing to wait out your little game now. The tips of your fingers drag against her walls as you slide out as slowly as you can bear. Straining your ears, you can hear her let out just the slightest exhale through her nose.

You pick up the pace suddenly; her nails dig in suddenly before she remembers herself and loosens her grip. She can’t hide the sudden shocked gasp she let out when you suddenly sped up, though, even when she turns her head to the side and tries to smother any more noises that might escape her mouth using the pillow. However, when you hit just the right point, a soft noise escapes that she can’t contain.

Good, you think, or you would be thinking if you weren’t focused on your hand thrusting in and out of her. No holding back this time. You lean back and capture a nipple between your teeth and roll the tip of your tongue over it, extending it using your teeth until her back arches into the touch. She hisses slightly in complaint, her nails digging a little more into your skin, but you think it’s mostly for show.

Undeniably, this whole thing is turning you on. To see her tilting her head back and exposing the long, smooth skin of her throat, moaning under her breath, makes your stomach clench and your mouth ache to sink your fangs into her. Watching and hearing your fingers slide back and forth, covered in the evidence that she really does want you... That never gets old. Your bulge is insinuating itself unconsciously against her thigh, needing just a little contact, spreading jade across the inside of your skirt.

Rose notices your arousal, of course, never mind that a tentabulge jabbing into someone’s leg would be quite hard for anyone to overlook. She says nothing, but the smirk playing at her swollen mouth speaks for her. Although the effect is sort of ruined by her panting and her wildly dilated pupils, and the slight clenching around your fingers, and her inability to stop her hips rocking up into you, and the beautifully inelegant faces she makes when you hit the right angle.

You ignore any of her valiant attempts to distract you. Why she’s trying so hard to do that you’re not sure, but you figure that Rose cannot simply lay back and be pleasured without fighting it a little. So when she reaches between your legs you seize the wandering hand and trap it back above her head. A rough thrust makes her eyes shut tight. That smirk finally falls away as she bites down, teeth cutting into her lip. You curl them upwards to press repeatedly against the front wall and the groan that emerges from deep within her chest is delicious.

Finally, she forgets about trying to touch you as you speed up your pace. Instead, Rose grips your hand up with hers almost painfully tight. You bite back a hiss and thrust harder, delighting in making her eyes roll back in her head. You can’t take your eyes off her face, the deep crease between her eyebrows, her half open mouth.

‘Kan,’ she says, mumbling under her breath as she thrashes, meeting each of your thrusts.  She inhales sharply, pressing her feet into the mattress and jerking her hips up. ‘Fu – K’n’ya…’ The vowels are lost somewhere in her speech, her slack mouth too focused on groaning to form the sounds properly.

‘Yes, Rose?’ you say, panting, smiling. You’re loving this, the one-up manship, loving that you are the only one that does this. Human relationships confused you before with their complex simplicity, but there is something to be said for knowing that she is yours – and only yours, in every respect. You feel a giddy rush of affection for Rose even as she glares at you.

You reach over with your other hand and press firmly on her “clitoris” (really, who named these parts of the human anatomy?) and massage it firmly with the pad of your thumb, as you vaguely remember working before. The contact has immediate effect; she’s soaked around you, her walls clamping down on your long fingers. You’re breathing hard from the exertion, from thrusting so hard, from sheer arousal.

She’s suddenly very loud – you wonder why, until you realise she must have noticed the effect it has on you. Just another way of turning the tables back in her favour. The thought that Rose might just be enjoying it doesn’t really cross your mind.

You just think about how you can get the upper hand again. You have the perfect solution, one which Rose has never ever let you do. But things are different today, you think decisively as you slide down Rose’s body.

Noticing your slowing pace, Rose’s eyes open, and seeing where you have ended up, her hands shoot out to grab your horns, making you look up at her. Her face is still flushed and she looks dazed, but there’s obvious panic in her eyes.

You place what you hope is a soothing kiss on her left hipbone.

‘Trust me?’ You don’t mean it to sound like a question.

‘I do.’ A beat, then, she says, ‘But.’ You wait. She swallows, turning the words over in her mouth, licking her lips. Finally she gives you a single nod. ‘O... Okay.’

You don’t waste any time now, in case she takes it back.

Her hands are still on your horns, and at the first touch of your tongue they clench painfully, making you wince and shake your head slightly to try and loosen her grip. It’s not a particularly enjoyable sensation. She must notice, because she gradually lets go and instead slides her fingers into your hair, tugging a little when the tip of your tongue finds her clit. This placement isn’t much better, but you’ll take a potential bald patch over snapped horns.

You experiment with speeds and pressures - flickering, long strokes, circles -  until you find one that makes Rose hiss and her thighs clench and tremble on either side of your head.

It’s not perfect. It’s all a bit clumsy and erratic, and you’ve nearly broken your nose several times already due to the manic attempts of Rose’s hips to become one with your face. But if you’re totally honest with yourself - and who has the brainpower to lie when their tongue is buried between their girlfriend’s legs? - you are having the fucking Time Of Your Life down here. You’re moaning to yourself like Rose is the sweetest grubsauce you’ve ever tasted; meanwhile Rose is still keeping up a continuous chant of your name, surging back and forth between being really loud and trying to restrain herself. You think you’re probably staining the sheets green as well, but your needs aren’t really your priority. They might never be again, if this is what you get to do.

Given how focused on your task you are, it’s unsurprisingly that you let out a highly undignified whine of protest when Rose suddenly lifts your head away without warning. You struggle to go back to what you’re doing, but she pulls on your horns until you reluctantly look back up at her.

‘Can you come up here please?’ she asks.

‘Why?’

‘Why so many questions?’ she says irritably. ‘Just c’mere.’

You really want to say no thanks, I’ll just stay down here if that’s alright with you, but she’s giving you a worried look, gnawing at her bottom lip. You can’t possibly deny that face. So you heave your body back up the bed, planting a hand on her pubic bone so she knows you won’t be distracted for long.

You lean in to kiss her, but she seems hesitant to do so. You’re not sure why until you realise she’s smeared all around your mouth. You quickly wipe it with the back of your hand, making her laugh a little.

‘Ever the classy one, Kanaya.’ She kisses you now, a grimace on her face when she pulls away. ‘Hm... That could take some getting used to.’

‘Really? You don’t like it?’ She shrugs. ‘It’s a good thing I do, then.’ You give a sigh that some might call dreamy - not you, though - planting your face back in her neck while your fingers go back to business between her legs. No more teasing this time, but two fingers and your thumb pressed to her clit. Never mind the awkward position.

Despite all the stops and starts, there’s a focus to Rose’s furrowed brow that wasn’t there before. She’s also fallen mostly quiet, and when you look up at her, you realise she’s staring at you, eyelids half closed. You carry on the eye contact, even as you curl your fingers and make her eyelids slam closed. She brings her hands up to her face and covers it with them, biting down on the palms of her hands. You’d reach up and pull them away, but honestly, you’re a little too preoccupied, and anyway, you can still hear her heavy breathing from behind them anyway.

Although you’re not as experienced as you’d like to be, you still know the theory, and can still see the signs that Rose is getting close - and oh, now you know why she wanted you up here. Her arms come up and around you, clutching your head like a lifeline to her clavicle. You have to angle your horns carefully so you don’t impale her. That’d really put a dampener on things. You can see the sudden flush of blood – smell it, even – cross Rose’s chest and into her cheeks, her reddened neck a delicious bridge between the two making you so ravenous you have to exercise much restraint to prevent you from simply burying your teeth into her neck.

Fortunately for the both of you, Rose is coming, and that provides a perfect distraction.

Rose’s orgasm seems to take her by surprise. Her eyes widen suddenly, then shut tight, and her fist clenches at the back of your neck; her body seizes, begins to shudder violently. An oddly quiet, drawn out ‘Fuck’ escapes her open lips, while lower down her walls are clenching tight around your fingers, and you nearly moan into her before you remember to hold it back.

You slow, waiting for Rose’s breathing to stop being so erratic before you remove your hand. You savour the catch in her breath as your fingers drag away, as you savour pretty much everything about Rose. Including the tart taste of her lingering on your fingers, which you lick away a little too contently, somewhat pleased with yourself.

Human biology still confuses you somewhat. Even after all this time, you’re still perplexed by the comparatively tiny amount of liquid expelled by human females, if any - Rose didn't take too kindly to having a bucket pushed between her legs when you made her come (it took you a while to stop referring to it as pailing, at least out loud)  for the first time. One of only a few times, actually. But you suppose this way of doing it is okay too. Very, very okay.

When you’re finished cleaning yourself up you suddenly notice there has been a distinct lack of any sort of comment from your matesprit since intercourse finished a short while ago.

You look down.

Rose is shaking, her face turned away from you and now fully hidden in her hands. For a second you think she’s laughing, as the opposite seems a little unusual for Rose – but then you realise it’s true. Rose is actually crying.

Your heart clenches sharply, and any arousal you had rapidly dissipates. Fuck, perhaps you’ve hurt her. This seems more and more likely, judging by how she pulls you down and buries her face in your neck in a manner most uncharacteristic for her, clutching you tight.

You do your best to hold her, aware of the awkward fit of your body against her much smaller one, and the fact you’re struggling to hold your weight up and not crush her. She shudders faintly; her breath is still choppy, but gaspier now, like the breathless aftermath of laughter or sobs, or both.

‘Rose?’ you whisper anxiously into her ear, placing a worried kiss on the skin closest to your lips. ‘Are you alright?’

She doesn’t answer you immediately, but takes several deep breaths and exhales before her body eventually relaxes against you. You continue to hold yourself up above her despite your slightly shaking arms, wary of moving away in case you upset her more. Thankfully, Rose gradually melts back onto the bed and extracts herself from your embrace, allowing you to move onto your side next to her.

‘Are you alright?’ you ask again in hushed tones.

‘Yeah,’ she says, ‘yeah, I’m okay.’

Tears are still wet on her cheeks.

‘… Okay,’ you reply weakly, not sure what to say. You reach out a fingertip and dry her cheek with it, cup her face gently.

It’s a subtle movement, but you still feel it when she jerks away from your touch, turning her face away just slightly.

‘Rose,’ you whisper, your heart breaking.

You knew trying to solve things with sex was a bad idea.

****

**= > Be the other girl.**

You are now the other girl, although you very much wish you weren’t. Not with the way Kanaya is looking at you, more seriously and with more heart-rending care than you’ve ever had directed at your before. This is exactly why you don’t cry – well, not in front of other people, anyway. Too much drama: you’ve never been fond of all that fussing about that goes on. And Kanaya is the queen of fussing over people.

Oh, God. This was such a mistake. You should never have tried to fix your problems with sex.

Suddenly feeling sick, you bolt from the bed. Your limbs are still shaky and weightless,but to your credit, you still make an attempt at pulling socks and underwear on in a frenzy, on succeeding in getting them half-on and half-off.

‘What are you doing?’ asks Kanaya, alarmed.

‘I have to go,’ you mumble to yourself. You give up on the underwear and start looking around on the floor for your shirt. ‘Goddamnit, where’s my shirt?’

You look around frantically while Kanaya scrambles off the bed too. She reaches for you just as you spot your shirt hanging on the shade of the bedside lamp and make a dive for it.

'Rose Lalonde!’ shouts Kanaya, voice sharp and dangerous, stopping you in your tracks with your hand hovering over the shirt. ‘If you run out on me now, do not bother coming back.’

She’s deadly serious.

You bite your lip, glancing at the door.

‘… Can I at least put my clothes back on?’

She thinks about your request for a moment. ‘Okay. But you may wear only your shirt and underwear. I fear I might lose you completely were you to add pants to your ensemble.’ The typically deadpan response calms your nerves a little. As you tug the shirt back on over your your head, her heavy gaze lingers on you the whole time. Rather than lying down next to Kanaya you sit a small distance away from her, knees to your chest.

After a moment, you feel Kanaya’s fingertips trailing up your spine. She rubs slightly at your skin before her nails - always well-tended, to your relief - sweep down to your sides.

‘You know, you’ve lost weight,’ she comments quietly. ‘I noticed this earlier, but decided not to comment.’ Ah, so that was why she was looking oddly at you earlier when your shirt was off. You’d thought maybe Kanaya had forgotten what your breasts looked like in the long time since she’d last seen them.

You shrug, unsure why she’s bringing it up. ‘That may be for many reasons.’

Her palm rests on the small of your back, warmth radiating outwards into your skin. ‘Is stress one of them?’

That makes you smile. ‘Why, Kanaya. I thought I was the one prone to psychoanalysis in this odd little relationship of ours.’

‘Perhaps I am simply learning from you.’ She turns on her side, scooting closer until her face is inches from your back, body nearly bent in half to curl around yours. ‘Also, stop trying to change the subject. I am not blind, you know.’

You figure a joke about Terezi would not be well-received. Besides, Kanaya is still talking.

‘I believe you owe this talk to the both of us, Rose,’ she murmurs. ‘I let you distract us both for a while, and it was… well, for want of a better word, breathtaking, but it’s going to happen whether you like it or not.’

You sigh, laying your head down on top of your knees. ‘I know.’

She seems to run out of things to say, temporarily, after that.

‘Did I hurt you?’ she asks finally. ‘Was that the reason for your tears?’

You shake your head. ‘No, not at all. You were amazing.’

‘Then why -’

You cut her off. ‘We humans are an emotional species, particularly when it comes to our beloved intercourse. This may not be the same for trolls given how the process of reproduction works for you, but for us it is quite normal, even beneficial from a interpersonal point of view, to enter such a state after orgasm. Oxytocin, the “cuddle hormone”, etc, etc.'

Kanaya is unfazed by your attempt to throw her off the topic with your mediocre blatherings about the science of intercourse. ‘Aha. So, you were not truly upset about anything after all.’

‘No. I am and was completely fine.’ Never has such an obviously insincere remark dropped from your lips. Usually you prefer to cloak it in at least four levels of sarcasm first.

Naturally, Kanaya picks up on it and wrings it for all it’s worth.

‘If you’re so fine, I assume that means you’re happy to return to our conversation about why you’ve been so intent on “bulgeblocking” our relationship?’ she asks, her tone dry, like the kiss she places on your back to soften the words.

Ah, Kanaya. It might take her a while to build up to a subject, but when she gets there she can be startlingly tenacious, never letting you drop the topic. You’d admire it of her, except it is incredibly vexing being on the receiving end. ‘I’m not sure it’s possible to “bulgeblock” yourself.’

‘What did I say about not changing the subject?’ she reminds you gently. She props her head up on the palm of her hand. It’s odd not being able to see her, but merely feeling her movements behind you.

‘There is not much else to tell - you know most of it already,’ you tell her stiffly. ‘Remember what I told you at the end of our last conversation on Pesterchum. My moments of openness might be brief, but they can be telling in their own way.’

‘If by “telling”, you mean “open up more questions than they answer”. For instance, I still do not know why you were crying a few minutes ago.’

Her persistent questioning shreds your last nerve. ‘Kanaya, can’t you see that I simply don’t have answers for you? I don’t know why I was crying. I don’t know why I’ve consistently not allowed you to touch me for so long, and why today happened to turn out differently. I don’t know if it’ll ever happen again or if I’ll go back to my old ways. I simply do not know.’

‘Alright. I merely wanted to try to understand what was going on from your point of view, but I can understand that you’re not entirely sure yourself.’ She sounds hurt, which irritates you even more. You don’t really have the willpower to be considering her feelings right now, not when you yourself feel like such a mess. ‘Is there anything you do know?’ she asks.

‘I know that I’m afraid.’

‘Yes. But of what, exactly?’

‘Well… You, mostly,’ you say with what’s meant to be a nonchalant shrug, but turns into a half-assed twitch of your shoulders.

‘Me?’ Kanaya is surprised. ‘Why are you afraid of me?’

You chuckle bitterly. ‘Now, that I don’t know either. It’s silly. I’ve looked death in the face, multiple times, survived the end of the world with barely a blink. And yet the thought of lying naked underneath you filled - fills me with terror.’

‘Maybe we should stand, then,’ Kanaya suggests, completely seriously.

You laugh at her then, even as your eyes start filling with tears again. Seems to be a running theme today, even though you would not be one to say you cried often, in normal circumstances. Luckily, you’re more skilled at holding them back this time around.

‘You’ve probably noticed I have some… control and anxiety issues,’ you say, trying your best to keep it together. ‘They become a problem when we’re in intimate situations. And the only way I could contain it was to either eliminate such situations entirely, or manipulate them so they went my way. I tried both ways.’

‘I see,’ Kanaya comments. She plucks at the sheet, looking at it thoughtfully. ‘So… This whole situation was not a result of anything I’ve done to you? You were not angry at me in some way, or punishing me for something I did wrong unknowingly?’

You bow your head, ashamed of yourself for being the type of person that Kanaya could even expect that of you. ‘No. Not at all.’

She laughs, just a little. Your head shoots back up and you frown at her in confusion. Realising what she just did, Kanaya covers her mouth, eyes widened slightly.

‘I apologise. I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just that … As I said earlier, I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time until now wondering whether I was the cause of all of this. I thought I had done something wrong.’

‘No...’

‘… I’m not sure if I’m glad or not that that is not the case.’ After a brief moment of hesitation Kanaya sits beside you on the bed, leaving a very ungirlfriend-like space between your leg and hers. You can see there are goosebumps raised on the flesh of her leg from the chill of the room, and want to touch her, to brush them away with your hands and mouth. You don’t.

‘Me neither.’

Her knee nudges yours. After a moment, she puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close to her body; you resist for a moment, but then realise you have no reason to and allow yourself to relax against her.

‘I don’t know where to go from here,’ you confess, shaking your head with a slightly tearful laugh.

‘Me neither,’ she replies, echoing your response. ‘I suppose we have made some headway in at least talking about it, anyway, which is an improvement on how things were before.’

You’re not so sure it’s an improvement. On paper, you’ve revealed very little to her, but the real secrets are in letting her body cover yours while you lie vulnerable underneath, in accepting touches without diverting her attention away. That Kanaya truly sees how frightened you really are is probably one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to deal with, because all you can do is accept it.

‘Today was not... terrible, was it?’ You shake your head mutely. ‘Well then, surely we’ve made some progress... and we might be able to move on from here?’

Kanaya looks so hopeful. It breaks your heart.

****

**= > Be Kanaya.**

Rose looks so downcast. It breaks your heart.

‘Don’t answer that, then. I suppose it was a rather foolish question,’ you say, sighing, retreating from her a little. She quickly snatches up your hand to stop you moving away.

‘I’m sorry, Kanaya.’ She takes a breath, and you feel genuinely bad for Rose, knowing now how much she struggles with this sort of thing. ‘I want things to move on from this, naturally. Yet I find myself scared that I won’t be able to. That this is the rut I have gotten myself into, and there I will stay forever.’

‘Ruts are not escaped easily. We will have to take it slowly, but you will get there. I promise,’ you tell her gently, rubbing a thumb along the back of her hand.

‘I’ll probably mess up again,’ she says, with a self deprecating laugh.

You shrug. ‘As will I. But as long as we’re both trying to fix the mess, I believe there’s not much more we can do.'

She looks worried, so you tip her face up and Rose kisses you back, sweet and unsure. When you break away, she leans her forehead against yours with a small sigh.

'This insistence on having me talk about my feelings was rather aggravating. I hope you know that.'

'Of course,' you respond cheerfully. 'However, as your girlfriend it's surely my job to make you as aggravated as possible.'

She nuzzles your shoulder.  'I would have said that sounded more like blackrom.  But then, as a human dating a troll, who am I to comment on the intricacies of troll relationships.'

'Ah, but I said girlfriend. Not matesprit,’ you point out. ‘As far as I can see from your poorly written television shows, it is quite natural for the _human_ female partner to be as shrewish and annoying as possible.'

Rose smiles. You're relieved to see that she seems more relaxed, the familiar back and forth of your conversation setting her at ease. 'Poorly written, says she. She, who reads the troll equivalents of 50 Shades of Grey on a regular basis with no shame at all, save the odd jade blush in her cheeks when she reads a particularly naughty passage.'

'To know it was of poor quality you would have needed to read it as well, you know.’

Rose laughs, wiping at her cheeks. ‘You know, I’ve cried far too much than is healthy today. Anymore and I shall have to borrow your bucket to catch the flow.’

You should be used to Rose’s “jokes” about your bucket - she finds it highly amusing for some reason - by now, but your eyes still widen despite yourself. ‘Rose, that is disgusting.’

‘Why is it disgusting?’ She grins, winks at you. ‘You seem to have no problems with using it.’

Your cheeks immediately heat up. ‘Such a lewd, vulgar girl,’ you mumble. Never mind how much you enjoy this particular girl’s lewd, vulgar actions. ‘First that incident with the bucket on your head, and now this.’

‘What was that?’

‘Oh, nothing.’

Shaking her head, Rose lifts her hands to your face and cups your burning cheeks gently. There's an aching fondness in her expression, one you see when Rose thinks you’re not looking and one you direct at her an awful lot. You can feel some of the tension in your shoulders from the last few years with Rose lifting, however slightly. Actually talking about things has its benefits, you suppose, however short lived. (And makeup sex.)

'What?' It’s difficult to meet her eyes when she’s looking at you like that, so you allow your demure gaze to drop to a freckle on the side of her neck.

‘Nothing.' You raise an eyebrow, although you’re still not looking at her so the general effect is that you’re eyebrowing her collarbone. She presses her finger to it, pretending to ease it back down into place. ‘Alright, no need for the suspicious eyebrow raise. I’m well aware my delivery of that line was not terribly convincing.'

 'Or at all,' you say, catching her fingers and kissing them. She tweaks your nose in response, making you chuckle at her silliness. 'So what was it?'

 ‘Well, if you must know...’ She sighs heavily, putting the back of her hand to her forehead and pretending to swoon. 'It’s just that sometimes, Kanaya, I do feel awfully fond of you.'

'Really!’ You feign shock. ‘Now that is a surprise.'

‘It shouldn’t be.’ Rose’s voice is serious again. ‘I haven’t been telling you anywhere near as much as you deserve. However, that will change from now on - I promise you.’

‘Well, there’s no need for a complete personality transplant,’ you say, making her swat at you.

‘That was an awful amount of sass, considering you’re speaking to someone you claim to love.’ She shakes her head at you in a mock disappoint. ‘Tell me, Kanaya - why do I even bother?’

'I always assumed it was for the pancakes.’

She chuckles warmly, leaning into your body and pressing kiss after kiss after kiss to your face. Her lips are curved into a smile along your cheek bone. You smile too, elated that she seems so much more cheerful than she has in months. ‘You’re quite right. Were it not for your _delicious_ -’ She licks your face at this point, making you squirm away and her laugh even more - ‘cooking, I would certainly have thrown you out into the blistering cold on your ass by now.’

‘It’s the middle of summer,’ you point out.

‘ _The blistering cold,_ Kanaya. So it would behoove you to watch your tongue.’ She plucks at your bottom lip.

‘That is not what you were saying earlier, if I’m remembering correctly.’

‘And here’s the sass again!’ cries Rose. She pushes at your shoulders until you fall back on the bed, springs protesting when she shifts her weight onto her knees on either side of you. She leans down until her hair falls down around her face, nose touching yours. ‘Such altercations will not be ignored, Miss Maryam.’

You smile, at that, and accept her kiss.

Then you let her straddle you until you remember your libido, squashed away into the corner of your mind for the last twenty minutes. You let her remind you she’s not wearing anything under that shirt with the unsubtle press of her hips on yours. You let her take back the control from you, the control she let you borrow for a time, but now needs to regain to feel safe again. You let her do all this, knowing why she needs to. Inside, though, you still worry you’ll never get it back again.

Hesitantly, you put your hands on the back of Rose’s thighs, slide your hands beneath the trailing tail of her shirt again.

It takes her a moment, but she lets you do that as well, and the tension in your shoulders eases for the first time in a long, long while.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, this thing is done. Only took me 3 months. It was a originally a simple crackfic about Rose being overly sarcastic during sex - now it's this monstrosity where Kanaya is overly sarcastic during sex. In her own mind. Go figure.
> 
> Thanks to my unofficial betas yokothetypo and Gwen! And thanks for reading guys, glad my first HS fic didn't turn out too terribly. =)
> 
> Might be an epilogue to follow? Probably not though. Just to keep you on your toes in trusting me.
> 
> If you enjoyed it and can spare a mo' to comment, please do.


End file.
